


believe in you, believe in me

by windowbedsthebest



Series: sunsets and stanford [1]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 21:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7591903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windowbedsthebest/pseuds/windowbedsthebest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a game they're so used to playing; fall in love, stay in love, then fall back out. </p><p>Kelley just wishes there wasn't a winner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	believe in you, believe in me

**Author's Note:**

> tiny snippets of kelley and christen’s relationship, split into three stages. 
> 
> (don't ask me where this came from)

**Step one: Fall in love.**

 

_ (This step is the most effortless. It’s easy to get caught in, but keep your eyes on the finish line. You can’t stay in one place to get there; you have to keep on taking the steps forward. Step one gets the momentum going, so make sure not to mess it up.) _

  
  


+

  
**i.**  
  


“Don’t be a dick, Kell.” There’s a rough nudge at Kelley’s side before the bread roll clutched in her fist is snatched from her tight grasp. 

 

“How am I a dick?”

 

“You’re taking the last roll of bread before making sure everyone had a piece. That makes you a dick.”

 

Kelley’s quick to shake her head. “I’ve done a lot of things that make me a dick, but unfortunately, I don’t think this makes the list.” 

 

The round of laughs that reverberates through the table isn’t anything of unfamiliar nature, so Kelley doesn’t think twice about it. 

 

But there’s one of the freshmen—Kelley swears her name is Kristen, or Christian, or something along those lines—whose laugh seems to trap itself in her throat as she continues to sip on her iced tea with a gentle smile. 

 

She’s pretty. She’s really, really pretty. Maybe not like the kind of pretty you see on fashion runways or magazine covers. 

 

But even better than that. 

 

Kelley doesn’t realize she’s staring until the girl darts her eyes back down to her lap. 

 

“Whenever she acts this annoying, you don’t have to pass her the ball at practice,” Allison tears off a piece of the bread and pops it into her mouth, and the laughs come again, but Kelley doesn’t hear any of them. 

 

Well, she hears  _ one _ . The one from Pretty Girl. 

 

And Kelley never knew laughs could be pretty, too, but she guesses you learn something every day.

 

Her laugh isn’t like Kelley’s. It’s not booming and loud and attention-seeking—it’s soft, it’s charismatic, and it may just be everything Kelley needs. 

 

“You know I’m kidding, dude,” Allison wraps her fingers around the nape of Kelley’s neck and jostles her lightly. “It’s ok to laugh at other people’s jokes.” 

 

Kelley exhales a breath that’s supposed to double as a chuckle, poking at the ice in her water with her straw. “Can’t let you thinking you’re actually funny.” 

 

She  _ swears  _ she sees the smile on Pretty Girl—she seriously has to remember her name. She’s leaning more towards Kristen—stretch into a grin. A rush of accomplishment settles itself in the pit of her stomach. 

 

She’ll take it. 

  
**ii.**

 

It’s Christen. With a  _ Ch.  _ Not a  _ K.  _

 

“My sisters’ names are Channing and Tyler, so I guess I caught the break, huh?” she’s neatly organizing her cleats and shin guards into her training bag after the team’s first summer practice. 

 

Kelley’s eyes flicker to her own bag: the zipper is only ¾ closed because hoodies— _ who carries hoodies around in July?— _ and old t-shirts bleed out and prevent it from zipping closed. She makes a mental note:  _ fix that.  _

 

Then her eyes flicker back to Christen’s lips, then up to her eyes where she’s supposed to be looking. “That’s sick, actually,” she speaks up, her mouth starting to feel dry when Christen cocks her head in her direction. “I mean—I don’t know. I used to think I was cool because I had an extra  _ e _ in my name.” The extra second of airy silence that ensues afterwards makes her wish she never said anything. 

 

“It’s not that awesome when we go to the airport and I can never find a keychain with my name on it,” Christen recovers smoothly, and Kelley doesn’t bother to balk at the embarrassing, over-the-top laugh that escapes her.

 

She’d go out of her way to find a keychain for Christen with her name on it if it meant it’d make her smile. She makes another mental note:  _ do that.  _ “So how does the Bay compare to LA? Do you like it here?” 

 

Christen rolls her lips together, intently and thoughtfully. “Yeah, I do,” she says. “I read somewhere that home isn’t necessarily a place; it’s a feeling, or a group of people.” 

 

Kelley isn’t sure she follows, but she nods her head anyway. 

 

“I guess what I’m saying is—I have my family in LA. I just have to find my group of people here, you know?” 

 

And the weight of Kelley’s heart in her chest lightens, because the look Christen’s giving her makes her feel like maybe she could be a part of it. “Yeah. Totally. I feel that.” Then, to her dismay, her mouth starts to move before her mind does, and, “For what it’s worth, I’ll definitely help you find it.” She stares down at her dumb Adidas slip-ons that are maybe 6 uses away from falling apart. “That feeling of home, or whatever.”

 

Christen’s eyes brighten. “Cool. Yeah, that’d be awesome.” She clears her throat cautiously. “Have  _ you _ found it?”

 

Kelley feels small under her gaze. “You mean, like, the whole home thing?” 

 

“Mhm.” 

 

“Well,” she leans back on her hands, “I have friends. I have the team—Ali, Allison. I have fun.” 

 

Christen remains silent, and Kelley is surprisingly smart enough to know why. 

 

“Sorry. Totally didn’t answer the question.” 

 

“It’s ok.”

 

“Sometimes Georgia feels like a world away,” Kelley says in a sigh, balling the grass beneath her into small fists as she divulges a personal aspect of her life to someone she barely knows. “I’m—I’m working on it, I guess.” 

 

Christen nods her head. “I’ll strike up a deal with you.”

 

“Yeah? What do you got?”

 

“You help me find it, and I’ll help you,” she stretches out her pinky, and Kelley links it with her own without missing a beat. 

 

“You got it. To finding a home.” 

 

“To finding a home.”

 

**iii.**

 

Christen’s comes with when the team decides to stop by Sigma Chi’s first party of the year. 

 

“Rule number one, don’t let any boy put their greasy hands on any part of your body—yes, that goes for you heterosexuals as well,” Kelley leads the pack of sophomores and freshmen that decided to get ready in her dorm together. “Seriously. You don’t know where those things have been, I’m pretty sure 60% of them don’t even know how to wash their hands.

 

“Rule number two, never go  _ anywhere  _ alone.  _ Ever.  _ I’m serious. These things get out of control pretty quickly. Travel in 3’s at the least.” She’s just reached the brown wooden door of the fraternity house when she exhales a deep breath. 

 

“Rule number three, have fun.” 

  
  


+

  
  


Kelley and Allison are edging out two random football players 3 rounds to 1 in beer pong two hours later. 

 

Kelley wraps her fingers around the edge of the table for sturdier balance, leaning forward and yelling out another hoarse  _ feminism  _ chant when Allison banks in the winning shot. 

 

“Sorry boys, maybe find someone in your own league, yeah?” she swings a sloppy arm around Allison as they make their way to the backyard patio, where there’s another sizable crowd of people to greet them with eager cheers and smiles. 

 

(Kelley may only be a sophomore, but she figures she runs her mouth off to so many people she has the reputation of an upperclassmen.)

 

“C’mon, one brownie, ladies, just one,” Steve, the school’s resident stoner, has this smile on his face that makes Kelley’s nose crinkle, and she coughs back a pitiful laugh before shaking her head. 

 

“You know we have regular drug tests, dude, I’m sorry,” Kelley reaches out to pat his back before eyeing the sweat stains on his shirt.

 

She settles for a quick fist-to-shoulder bump instead. 

 

He bids goodbye with a shrug and an  _ It’s so cold out here, where the  _ fuck  _ did the sun go? _

 

“I wanna do another round,” Kelley turns to Allison, her eyes determined. 

 

“Another round….of shots?”

 

Kelley nods like a little girl whose mom just asked her if she finished all the vegetables at dinner when she really just hid them in her napkin. 

 

“No, Kell, you’ve already had a shitload of beer, you can’t go back to liquor.” 

 

“But,  _ Al— _ ”

 

_ “Beer before liquor, never been sicker,”  _ Allison grips onto her shoulders, and Kelley starts to exaggeratedly roll her eyes until the world starts spinning too quickly. “Get a grip, you’re done.”

 

Kelley wipes at her mouth with the inside of her arm despite there being no reason to. “Fine.” Her eyes wander to the opposite side of the backyard, where she spots a duo of their teammates striking up a conversation with a guy she thinks is on the lacrosse team. 

 

She squints, searching for their third party.

 

The alcohol (seemingly) drains out of her when she realizes their third party was Christen. And Christen—well, Christen’s nowhere in sight. “She’s not there.”

 

Allison’s eyebrows pinch together. “What?”

 

“She’s supposed to be with them.” She’s walking back into the house before she even realizes it, and Allison attempts to tug her back by the hem of her black tank top when Kelley loses her and goes on a mad one-woman search party. 

 

“Hey, I’m looking for this girl,” she starts rattling off to a group of musicians. “Her name is Christen—Christen Press. Christen with a  _ Ch.  _ Not a  _ K.  _ She’s maybe an inch or two taller than me; darker skin, darker hair. But—but she’s a lot prettier. Like, legit. Like—like if the sun had to rise and set for one person it’d probably be her, and it’s really—it’s fucked up that I say that because I’ve only known her for like a month, but—but, uh—” 

 

The blank stares she receives causes her to backtrack. She evacuates the room before any of them have the chance to think about opening their mouths. 

 

She spots trios of the team in different rooms of the house, inquiring about Christen’s whereabouts and clenching her jaw when she’s greeted with blank stares and  _ I’m sure she’s fine, she’s not a little girl.  _

 

“No, she isn’t, but she’s a freshman girl in college at her first party, and she shouldn’t be alone while experiencing it.” 

 

She finds her in the basement, on the ragged leather couch behind the pool table, visibly uncomfortable as she sits in close proximity with a douche bag from the football team. 

 

“Hey, back off,” she nudges her way through a couple making out against the arm of the couch to roughly shove his chest. “What are you doing?” she raises her voice, shoving his chest again even harder than the last time. “Did you lay a hand on her?” 

 

“O’Hara, chill—” 

 

“Did you touch her?” her eyes harden.  _ “Did you fucking touch her?”  _

 

“No, I didn’t!” he throws his arms up in surrender. “Jesus fuck, we’re just talking.” 

 

Kelley shoots him a hard, thin stare before her gaze shifts to Christen, whose mouth looks like it’s being sealed shut with superglue. “Are you ok?” she asks softly, extending a hand to help her up. 

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says breathily, out of her element but more importantly unharmed. 

 

“Leave her alone, I mean it,” she spits at the guy, who’s already moved onto another girl playing pool. “You sure you’re good? Do you want water or anything?” 

 

“I’m fine, I am,” Christen’s voice sounds significantly looser as they make their way back up the stairs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Kelley leans against the railing when she remembers she’s still battling 2 rounds of tequila and however-many cups of beer. “Plus, that dude’s a nut job. You didn’t deserve whatever you were going through.” 

 

Christen’s hand lingers in the air, as if she’s debating whether or not to place it on the small of Kelley’s back for assistance, before it falls back down to her side. “Thanks.”

 

“Hang out with me for the rest of the night.” It comes out more of a plea than a harmless suggestion. “Did you have enough to drink?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, seriously, don’t worry about it,” Christen nearly stumbles into her once they reach the top of the stairs. “I actually—I’m not a huge drinker or anything. So, I mean, I’m good.” 

 

Kelley lifts her eyebrows in realization. “Oh, oh, ok. That’s cool, that’s chill. Yeah.” She’s leaning against the doorframe when she realizes Christen’s trying to hide a smile behind her fingers. “What?” 

 

“You didn’t have to go through that trouble. Looking for me.” 

 

“We’re a team,” Kelley shrugs. “We look out for each other.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right, we do.” 

 

“Hey, speaking of—um, what happened? Did they leave you? Why were you by yourself?” 

 

“Oh, uh,” Christen begins to twiddle with the ends of her hair. “I don’t—I’m not totally sure. We were all in the basement, and they were talking to a couple guys, and I was playing pool with someone—I think he’s on the rowing team, but anyway—” 

 

Kelley musters up the sobriety to bite back a smile at the rambling. 

 

“I finished up the game, and they weren’t there. Then that football guy started talking to me, and I thought it’d be rude to just leave.” Her shoulder lifts in a shrug, and Kelley gives in, the corners of her lip slanting upwards. 

 

“Hey, I’m sorry,” she shakes her head. “They shouldn’t have left you, that’s not cool.”

 

“It’s fine, it is,” Christen reassures. “I’m ok,” she repeats, and Kelley lets the words settle into her bones.  _ She’s ok.  _

 

“Let’s get out of here,” she laughs tiredly. “Seriously, let’s just call it.” 

 

“I don’t know, you’re like the life of the party,” Christen rebuttals. “90% of the people in here want to have a drink with you.” 

 

Kelley rakes lazy fingers through her hair and shakes her head. “None of that matters if you’re not having fun.” Her heart sinks immediately after because, “Ok, that sounded insanely creepy, can I blame that on the alcohol?” 

 

Christen laughs lightly. “You don’t have to.” 

 

“Ok, good,” Kelley’s muscles relax. “In all honesty, though, I’m pretty sick of everyone in here.”

 

Christen bunches her lips to one side of her mouth. “I could walk you back to your dorm, or something. If that’s what you want.”

 

“I don’t know, now that I think about it, it’s out of the way for you—”

 

“You said that we’re a team,” Christen interrupts, her eyes shifting. “That we look out for each other.” 

 

A smile finds Kelley’s lips. “Yeah. We do.” 

 

Christen tells Kelley she can lean into her side on the walk back. “To—your balance. To help with your balance.”

 

(Kelley does it.)

  
**iv.**

 

It comes out as a shy mumble after a practice, when they find themselves the last two players packing up their things—again. 

 

“We should go out sometime.” 

 

Christen’s hands freeze from retying her ponytail. “What was that, Kell?” 

 

_ Kell.  _ Kelley can’t count how many times she’s heard the nickname, but she can count on one hand how many times it’s made her heart flutter when someone said it. 

 

(The 4 times Christen’s said it. No, Kelley doesn’t keep a running tally. She’s just coincidentally remembered each time it happened.) 

 

“Um,” she starts to backtrack, tugging at the pre wrap interwoven between her fingers until it snaps. “I said—ah, I don’t know.”

 

“You don’t know what you said?” Christen teases, and Kelley lightly nudges her side. “Ok, that’s cool. I have to head back to my dorm anyway.” She starts propping herself up from the ground when Kelley leans over to tug her back down. 

 

“Wait. I  _ do  _ know what I said. I just got embarrassed.”

 

Christen’s lips form a thin smile. “I know, Kell.” 

 

“I wanna take you somewhere special,” Kelley starts to rattle off, taking a deep breath because she’s not totally sure when she plans to stop. “I wanna—do one of those things where we go out somewhere together, and we have really fun, and it’s just the two of us. You know?” 

 

“So you mean a date?” Christen’s smile subtly morphs into a smirk, and Kelley lifts her shoulder in a shrug. 

 

“Yeah. I guess that’s what those are called, aren’t they?” 

 

“Well, my answer’s yes,” Christen says casually, and Kelley looks up at her with light in her eyes. “I just have one small request.”

 

Kelley scrambles to sit upright, eliciting a laugh from the girl in front of her. “Anything. For real.”

 

Christen sucks in a breath. “I don’t wanna go to a fancy dinner or anything.” 

 

Kelley figures she can comply with that. She’s not really sure what her budget would’ve been anyway, especially after she killed her bank account by impulsively buying herself a new surfboard the other week. “Noted.”

 

“And the whole  _ I’ll pick you up at 7 _ or whatever. Not really my thing.” 

 

Kelley’s eyebrows knit together.  _ So does this mean I’m supposed to go earlier or later than 7?  _ “Oh, ok. Sooo—” 

 

“I’m just saying that’s how all my previous first dates have been, and none of those people stuck.” Christen peers down at the ground, her voice small and hesitant when, “I want this time to be different than that. For  _ you  _ to be different.” 

 

Kelley grins like an idiot. “Double noted.” She lets the wind nip at her skin before examining their surroundings; an empty field and the bag of soccer balls they promised their coach they would bring into the athletic house when they left. “The guys don’t practice for another few hours. How about now?” 

 

“ _ Now?”  _

 

“Something different, right?” Kelley bites down on the inside of her cheek. “I’ve never been on a date on a soccer field before. And maybe I want this date to be different from my last ones, too.” 

  
  


+

  
  


“The new crossbar challenge,” she’s setting the ball down on the line right after they lace their boots back on. “I hit the crossbar and you tell me omething about yourself, and when you hit it, I’ll do the same.” 

 

Christen folds her arms over her chest and swipes her tongue across her bottom lip. “Ok.” She shifts on the balls of her feet. “I’m not sure if I should wish you good luck or not.” 

 

Kelley sports a cocky grin. “I won’t need it.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Christen knows all about Kelley’s childhood, and all Kelley knows about her is that she has two dogs. 

 

“I hate this,” she mumbles as she lifts the hem of her shirt to wipe off the sweat above her upper lip. “At this rate, I might have to admit that I have a crush on you.” 

 

Christen’s busy taking a swig out of her water bottle, so Kelley’s at peace knowing she probably didn’t hear that last part. 

 

She places the ball back down onto the line, takes a few steps backwards, and eyes her target carefully. 

 

She has an extra skip in her step as she walks up to it, grunting as it soars through the air before loudly colliding with the crossbar.  _ “Yes!”  _ her arms raise above her head. “Yes!” 

 

Christen’s head tips back with laughter, and she begrudgingly rolls her eyes once it dies down. “Ok. Fine.” She mindlessly kicks at the ground. “This one’s a secret, though. So listen really well.”

 

Kelley swallows deeply. “All ears.” 

 

Christen curls back a loose strand of hair that escaped her ponytail behind her ear. “I have a crush on you, too.”

 

Giddiness snakes up Kelley’s ribcage and settles itself into her heart with no intention of ever getting out. “And you mean that?” 

 

“More than anything.”

  
**v.**

 

Kelley realizes it when they’re in the library studying for exams. 

 

Well, Christen’s studying. Kelley’s chewing on the spout of her water bottle, occasionally giving Christen a soft kick under the table until she looks up from her textbook to shoot Kelley a smile that causes the sun to cower in comparison. “I wanna kiss you,” she whines. 

 

Christen caps her bright pink highlighter closed and sets it in the crease of the textbook in front of her. “You promised we’d get some studying done.”

 

“And I stood by that,” Kelley rebuttals, and Christen’s eyes narrow suspiciously. 

 

“Lemme see your laptop screen.”

 

“No.”

 

“Kell.”

 

“No.”

 

“Kelley.”

 

“........”

 

“I knew you’ve been looking at skateboards!”

 

_ “Ugh _ , dude, I’m so bored,” she dips down head down and hides her face in the inside of her elbow. 

 

She’s about to sneak a look up at Christen when she feels soft fingers thread through her hair. “20 more minutes. Please?” 

 

Kelley’s shoulders slump, but she rests her chin on her hands and nods her head. “Yeah. Of course.”

 

She watches intently as Christen’s attention averts back to her book, this strangely comforting sensation tugging at the ends of her being when Christen concentratedly proceeds to tap the end of her highlighter to her chin. 

 

Kelley may be oblivious to a lot of things, but she’s smart enough to realize that the sensation she feels is love.

 

**Step two: Stay in love.**

_ (This step is the one to take with caution. It’ll come as easily as the first one, but with greater risk, as it brings you a step closer to the objective of the game. Don’t rush it. You won’t want to.) _

  
  


+

  
**i.**  
  


Kelley isn’t much of a movie-watcher. 

She just gets bored; sitting still and silent for two straight hours only to wait for an ending that  _ everyone was  _ expecting. 

But Christen’s a movie-watcher because  _ I think it’s cool you’re kind of sucked into another world, even if just for a little bit. You know?  _

Kelley doesn’t really know, but she  _ really, really _ knows that she loves spending time with Chrisen, so she can sacrifice a small portion of her life pretending she does. 

So yes. She’s nuzzled under Christen’s comforter with her Macbook heating against her lap while the rest of the team is sending her pictures of the men’s soccer team taking body shots off of their stomachs. 

Kelley would be lying if she said it bothered her.

“I’m sorry,” Christen mumbles as Kelley’s phone lights up with another text from Ali. “I know you wanted to go tonight. I said we could stop by.”

Kelley’s quick to shake her head. “Mm, nuh-uh,” she hides in the safety of Christen’s neck. “Spending an entire night I won’t remember with people I don’t know has nothing on a minute with you.” 

She feels Christen grin against her hair. “How long were you planning that one in your head?” 

Kelley smirks. “Since Nemo swam to touch the butt,” she refers to the movie, curling her fingers tighter around Christen’s side when Christen’s chest rumbles with laughter. “I mean it, though,” she murmurs almost inaudibly. “Being with you is my favorite.” She presses the most innocent of kisses to Christen’s jawline, then another less innocent one to her neck. 

Christen’s breath shortens. “It’s up there on my list, too.” 

Nemo is forgotten soon after. 

**ii.**

“Kell, you can’t use the smell test on a dress you’re wearing on a  _ date _ .” Ali deadpans as a romper from Kelley’s closet is tossed at her head. “I don’t get why you’re so nervous, anyway, she’s already your girlfriend.”

Kelley groans as she brings a short black dress to her nose only to be greeted with the stench of Malibu. “Because.”

“....because...what?” 

“Because she’s special, ok?” she says through clenched teeth. “She’s special. And she deserves to be reminded.” She continues to rummage through her closet. “Not just through Netflix movies and soccer fields, but through nice dinners, too.” 

Ali purses her lips in endearment. “Kell Bell’s in love.”

“Shut up,” Kelley grumbles. She locates a floral romper her mom bought her before freshman year and hastily slips it on. “Wholesome, yes?” 

Ali nods. “I’m proud of you.” 

Kelley shrugs as she pads across the room to apply some make up. “My mom picked it out.”

“Not because of the dress, dummy,” Ali rolls her eyes, chucking the romper from her head at Kelley’s feet. “This whole thing with Christen.” 

Kelley’s heart skips a beat. But she doesn’t tell Ali that. 

“You seem happy. And not the kind of happy you are at parties, but like, the happy that people dream about feeling.” 

Kelley tries to hide the smile stretching onto her face, which doesn’t work out that well considering Ali can see her through the mirror. “Well, I owe it all to her. She’s the reason for it, anyway.” 

“Just be careful,” Ali warns. “I don’t want either of you two getting hurt. Not just as a teammate but as a friend.”

Kelley halts the application of her mascara. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She avoids Ali’s gaze in the mirror. “I’ll look out for her, I will.”

Ali offers her a smile. “I know you will. Just make sure to look out for yourself, too.”

Kelley ends up half-assing the rest of her make up because Ali’s words decide to infiltrate her brain like a virus. 

What she has with Christen—it wouldn’t affect anything that happened on the field. At least not in a negative way. It’d be dumb to think so. 

  
  


+

  
  


“It’s  _ cahl _ amarie, right? Not  _ cal _ amarie?” Kelley scrunches her nose at her menu during dinner, and Christen giggles behind her own. 

“I think they’ll know what you’re getting at, no matter what you say.” 

Kelley suppresses her own smile at how stupid she’s sounding. “Yeah. I guess you’re right,” she sets the menu down and rests her chin in her hands, a charmed smile automatically finding her face as her eyes settle on Christen just a few feet across from her. “Hey, Chris.” 

Christen giggles again. “Hey, Kell.” 

“How was your day today? Talk to me.” 

“Well,” Christen gets that look on her face when she thinks too hard about something she shouldn’t. “I woke up early to head to the gym this morning, and I got some good reps in. Um,” she thinks harder, “I met with my partner for this huge physics project due in a few weeks. That was ok.” 

“Just ok?”

“Yeah. I don’t know, he’s just kind of leaving me with the bulk of the workload, which sucks a little bit.”

Kelley’s just finished taking a sip of her water when, “Do you need me to beat his ass?”

“Kelley.”

“Sorry.”

“But yeah, that’s pretty much it. I don’t remember much because I was too busy thinking about this date with a really pretty girl.”

Kelley grins like an idiot. “Now you’re the smooth one. I like it.” 

“Mm, how about you, how was your day?” 

“Uh,” Kelley rubs the palms of her hands together. “So I talked to Ali right before this.”

Christen nods her head, unsure if she’s supposed to take that as a good thing or a bad thing, and Kelley catches onto it. 

“It wasn’t anything heavy,” she reassures. “She just—she told me that she noticed I was happy. And like, when I think about it, she’s right. I  _ am  _ happy. Not like the temporary happy we get after we win a game, but the constant happy when I get to remember how lucky I am because I have you.” She doesn’t dare to look up from the table, anxiously fascinating herself with her fork. “Just—thank you. I wanna thank you. For making me happy.” Her body freezes until Christen leans over to clasp the palms of their hands together. 

“Kell, look at me.” 

Kelley does. 

“You make me happy, too. Constant happy.” Christen smiles gently, the same way she smiled when Kelley saw her for the first time at the team dinner over the summer. “And I wanna feel this constant happy with you for a long time.” 

Kelley uses her free hand to conceal the smitten grin on her face, her crinkling eyes making it hard to do so. “You’re my favorite. Out of all the Christen’s. Not just with the _Ch’s_ , but with the _K’s_ , too.” 

Christen brings their loosely interlocked fingers up to her lips and kisses the back of Kelley’s hand, innocently and softly. “You’re my favorite. Period.”

**iii.**

“I’ll walk you home tonight, and I’m never leaving your side so let yourself have fun, ok?” Kelley’s hand rests on Christen’s back as they make their way into the Kappa Alpha house. 

Christen shoots her a pensive look. “Are you sure? I feel bad.”

“I’ve gotten myself drunk enough to cover for the next year, you’re fine. I can sacrifice one night.” Kelley interlaces their fingers together to lead Christen to the kitchen. 

Christen gives her a tight squeeze.

  
  


+

  
  


She’s gone after 2 shots, curling herself into Kelley’s lap on the couch in the living room. 

“This is my girlfriend,” she says sternly to every person who stalks past them. “Right?” she turns to face Kelley, “You’re my girlfriend?” 

“Mm, yeah, I’m your girlfriend,” Kelley rests a comfortable hand on Christen’s thigh and presses a kiss to the side of her mouth. 

“You’re so cute,” Christen cups Kelley’s face in her hands, the pads of her fingers pressing into Kelley’s skin. “And all of your freckles. They’re so cute. I want them, but they look a lot better on you.” 

“Aw, thank you, Chris,” Kelley stifles a laugh. “But I think you look perfect without them.” 

Christen hides her face in Kelley’s neck and attaches her lips to her collarbone. “You’re too good to me.”

  
  


+

  
  


“Just one body shot,  _ please? _ ” Christen whines, already propping herself up on a table. 

Kelley hesitantly shifts on the balls of her feet. “I don’t know, Chris—”

The wind is knocked out of her when Christen’s tank top is already half way up her torso. Nothing she hasn’t seen before, but frankly you’d have to be an idiot to not stop for a moment and admire the masterpiece that is Christen Annemarie Press. 

“Yo’Hara,” some random guy—his name is Nick, Kelley thinks, and she’s pretty sure he hooked up with Allison once—slings a sweaty arm over her shoulder, “If you aren’t taking a shot off your girl’s stomach, then I will.”

The words are enough to set Kelley reaching for a shot glass. 

She ignores the crowd that circles around them, spotting Allison and Ali weave their way to the front. 

Ali’s already handing Christen a lime when Kelley’s tongue is on her stomach. 

There are drunken whoops as Kelley sprinkles the salt, and they only increase in volume when she takes the shot and proceeds to lick the salt off Christen’s stomach.

She takes her sweet, agonizing time taking the lime from Christen’s mouth, not for any of these people, but for Christen. 

(And for herself.)

  
  


+

  
  


Kelley’s a little buzzed. 

“You’re hot,” she laughs against Christen’s cheek on the patio. “Like—like you’re so fucking hot.”

Christen breaks into an unforgivable fit of giggles. “Stop it. I know,” she jokes, setting Kelley off again. “You are, too. I swear on it. I pinky promise.” She brings their lips together, and warmth that spreads through Kelley’s insides isn’t from the alcohol. 

So she’s a little buzzed.

But she’s buzzed on Christen Press.

 

**iv.**  
  


“You’re dumb.” Allison takes a long sip of her smoothie until her face pinches as a result of a brain freeze. 

“I’m not dumb.” 

“You got so competitive in  _ charades of all games  _ that your girlfriend is pissed at you.”

“She’s not pissed!” Kelley pokes her straw into the plastic cup with more force than necessary. “We’re just—it’s a creative disagreement.” 

“Oh, then you can invite her right now to have smoothies with us,” Allison feigns optimism, and Kelley narrows her eyes. 

“Ok, I’m dumb.”

“How are you gonna fix it? Not the dumb part, I mean. That’s inevitable. I’m talking about Christen,” Allison quips, and Kelley suddenly regrets spending the $6 she did on  _ both _ of their drinks. When she’s met with silence, “You know what people usually do?” 

“Mm?” 

“They  _ apologize _ .” 

Kelley’s jaw goes slack. “You mean, like, say sorry?” 

“By very definition, that’s what apologizing means, yes.” 

“That sucks,” Kelley thoughtfully chews on her straw. “This is probably, like, an in-person thing, too, right? Like I can’t just text her or something?” 

“Oh, Kell,” Allison groans, reaching over the table to softly pat Kelley’s arm. “Godspeed to you.” 

  
  


+

  
  


She’s lugging herself, a card, a bouquet of flowers, and a bag of Sour Patch Kids to Christen’s dorm an hour later. 

“I’m sorry,” she mutters in rehearsal, ignoring the stares of students as her rubber flip flops loudly smack against the concrete. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thrown the slips of paper at you when I won the game. I’m sorry.” 

She’s taking a deep breath for preparation purposes when she collides hard with another body, groaning loudly before her eyes flit back open and, “Chris. Hey.” 

Christen readjusts her gym bag more firmly on her shoulder. “Hey.” Her eyes flicker down to Kelley’s hands. “Um—”

“I’m sorry,” Kelley utters lamely, her eyes squinting against the harsh Palo Alto sun. She outstretches the card and flowers while balancing the Sour Patch kids under her chin. “For you.” 

Christen’s fighting a smile as she buries her nose into the flowers. 

“I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have been a dick during team game night. I was wrong, and I was stupid, and you didn’t deserve any of that.” She clutches tightly onto the pack of Sour Patch Kids as Christen curiously inspects the card. 

“Sorry for being an asshole,” she recites the front, and Kelley shrugs, her eyes trained on her toes. 

Then Christen is lifting her chin, then she’s pulling her in for a kiss. “I accept.” She laughs softly. “Constant happy, Kell.”

Kelley grins. “Constant happy,” she confirms. 

“Wanna head upstairs?” 

“Yeah—uh, were you planning on going to the gym?”

Christen purses her lips. “Sharing these Sour Patch Kids with you sounds a lot more fun.” 

Kelley hurls her arms around Christen’s neck, peppering the contours of her face with light kisses and inadvertently smushing the flowers in the process. “I’ll let you have all the reds.”

 

**v.**  
  


“You didn’t have to do that.” Christen rakes Kelley’s hair out of her face. “Show off your little trick.” 

“I wasn’t  _ showing off _ ,” Kelley’s mouth dips down into a frown as she adjusts herself more securely onto the sink countertop. “I was being a baller.”

Christen takes extra time bending down to grab an ice pack so as to buy herself time hiding her smile. “Ok. Sorry.” She thaws it between her hands before ever so lightly pressing it to the ripe purple bruise on Kelley’s cheekbone. 

(Or in her words,  _ a battle scar. _ )

Kelley’s too sore to repress her wince at the impact. “I don’t get it.” 

Christen’s eyebrows raise. “Um, you….you slipped out from right under your longboard and—”

“Not _that_ ,” Kelley interrupts gently. “I get why we’re in here. I was stupid.” 

“Hey, don’t call yourself that,” Christen interjects, softly but with a lot of urgency. Kelley responds by giving her arm a light squeeze. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “But I’m talking about you.” 

“Me?”

“I don’t get how someone like you could be with someone like me.” 

“Hmm,” Christen uses the thumb of her free hand to graze the bandage on Kelley’s chin. “Can you expand on that a little bit?” 

Kelley settles Christen more comfortably in front of her hips. “So you, missy, are like the sun. Ok?” she ignores the shadow of an entertained smile on Christen’s lips. “You’re everyone’s light. It’s hard without you. It’s hard to  _ be.”  _ She pauses as Christen delicately readjusts the ice pack. “It’s like walking blind in the dark when you’re not around. But not a lot of people realize it until you’re not there.”

Christen’s beaming from ear to ear. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Then there’s me—”

“Then there’s you, who’s everything. Who doesn’t even have to try to make me smile, who makes me feel safe.” Her eyes flicker to lock Kelley’s gaze. “Then there’s you, who makes me feel like I’m home.”

Kelley’s ear perk, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickling. “Home.” 

“Yeah,” Christen says. “And maybe home has a few bruises, but we can fix that up,” she adds lightly, retracting the ice pack so she gets a better look at Kelley’s face. 

“I fell in your honor,” Kelley concocts, just to make Christen smile. 

(It works.) 

 

**Step three: Fall back out.**

_ (This step can be easily skipped over, but there are no shortcuts, so it’s imperative to complete. It’ll be hard, it will. But hang in there. It’ll pay off.) _

 

**i.**  
  


It’s 80s night. 

It’s 80s night, and Kelley is very, very, very drunk. 

She adjusts her bright pink sweatband so it rests more comfortably on her forehead, followed by a 12 minute long complaint regarding the beer stain on her purple sweater. 

“Kell, it’s ok, we can wash it out,” Christen reassures her, and Kelley’s frown alleviates because Christen looks  _ really _ good in her outfit. 

“Fuck, you’re cute,” she cradles Christen’s face in her hands. “Watch me do another shot.” She leans in and ghosts her lips next to Christen’s ear. “I’m really good at it.” 

“I know you are,” Christen affirms, tugging on Kelley’s sweater so it falls off only one of her shoulders. 

“I’m gonna go, c’mon,” she pulls on Christen’s arm harder than necessary, belting out a yell when she locates Ali and Allison. “Let’s go, boys. No chaser.” 

Vodka’s burning down her throat on the count of 3. 

“Shit,” she brings the collar of her sweater to wipe at her mouth. “One more, one more.”

Christen’s eyes shift before, “Kell, slow down a little, ok?” 

“Chill out, Press, I’m fine,” Kelley says impulsively, snatching the bottle from Ali’s hands and pouring herself another shot. She downs it without even waiting for the other two girls. 

The alcohol is settling in her stomach when she notices Christen’s facial features tighten. 

Christen has to set her beer can down on the counter to stop Kelley from tripping over her own feet. “Hey, I’m serious, I don’t want you getting sick.” 

Kelley shakes her head, her arm wrapping around Christen’s waist. “I don’t get sick. Not a lightweight. Me. I’m not a lightweight.” 

She swears she hears something along the lines of  _ a lightweight would be dead already  _ escape from Christen’s lips, but she tells herself it’s the vodka. 

“Chris.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you hate me?” her frown is deep and her eyes are worried. 

“What? No, of course I don’t, why would you say that?”

“You don’t wanna get drunk with me,” Kelley’s shoulders slump, and Christen’s lips thin. 

“We got drunk together last weekend,” she rebukes. “Remember? We went into that shoe closet because we were too lazy to go upstairs—”

_ “Oh,”  _ Kelley interrupts sharply. Then she smirks. “I loved that, you know.”

Christen breaths out a laugh. “I did, too.” 

“Mm, you don’t have to stay,” Kelley rests her hands on Christen’s shoulders. “You’re not having fun.” 

“I am,” Christen says quickly. “Of course I am, you know I love spending time with you.” Her voice is soft, and it’s genuine, and it makes Kelley smile. 

“So you’ll play beer pong with me?” 

“I don’t know if that’s the smartest idea, Kell.”

“It’s a great idea!”

  
  


+

  
  


“I told you it wasn’t a good idea.” Christen reties Kelley’s bun more tightly over her head as Kelley hovers over the toilet bowl. 

Kelley outstretches a weak hand to flush. “We were killing it.” 

“I think that was the problem,” Christen murmurs, grunting as she takes a seat on the ground next to Kelley. “When was the last time you drank this much?” 

Kelley sinks her head in her hands and shrugs. “Couldn’t tell you. Maybe sometime last year.”

“You scared me,” Christen murmurs dejectedly. “I thought you might blackout or something.” 

Kelley knows she should say sorry. But she’s tired and she’s fucked up so she settles for, “I wanna get out of here.” 

“Um—yeah, ok, that’s....that's a good idea,” Christen nods her head and carefully props herself back up on her feet. She offers Kelley a hand, one Kelley’s smart enough to latch onto as she forces herself back upright. 

  
  


+

  
  


“I’ll see you tomorrow or something?” Kelley asks through a throbbing headache once they’re standing outside her residence hall. 

Christen pauses for an extra beat before, “Uh-huh. Sure.” 

The air is thick between them. “Night, Chris.” She leans forward to bring their lips together, but Christen dodges it subtly and settles for a kiss on the cheek. 

Christen remains silent, as if she’s waiting for Kelley to say something else. Then, “Night.” 

She’s already making her way back to her own dorm before Kelley’s done swiping her card to get inside.

 

+  
  


The next time they see each other is at practice two days later. 

Kelley’s applying her extra coat of sunscreen and listening to Allison rattle on about the upcoming game against UCLA when Kelley’s eyes scan the sidelines for Christen. 

And she finds her. But she’s nowhere nearby. She’s all the way at the other end with some of the freshmen. 

“Kell.”

“Wha?”

“Chill with the SPF, I know you look like a tomato, but I need some too,” Allison holds up her hands, and Kelley rolls her eyes before tossing her the bottle. “You good? You’re extra spacey today.”

“Yeah.” Kelley shrugs and rolls up the sleeves of her training top. “I’m good.”

  
  


+

  
  


She isn’t good. 

She isn’t good because Christen won’t even so much as look in her direction. She isn’t good because Christen refuses to pass her the ball even when she’s  _ wide open.  _ She isn’t good because when she stalks towards her during a water break, Christen busies herself talking to someone else. She isn’t good because all these things that make her not good cause her to sail a shot high over the crossbar when it should’ve been an easy goal during the team scrimmage. 

When Coach blows the whistle to call it a day, not a trace of relief runs through her. 

Kelley feverishly peels her pinny off her body and chucks it aside, a quiet  _ fuck _ eliciting from her lips as she saunters back to where everyone’s bags are. 

She’s just toeing her cleats off when she spots Christen hurriedly gathering all her things in her peripherals, and her eyebrows knit together. 

Christen always stays to be one of the last people on the field. It’s her and Kelley’s thing. It has been the entire season. 

But none of that matters because Kelley finds herself having to physically step in front of her to stop her from wherever it is she’s going. “Chris, what is happening?”

“I have to go,” Christen’s eyes are shifting. 

“No, wait, can you just tell me what’s wrong so I can make it better?”

Christen lightly swings her cleats by the laces. “No. I don’t know. Everyone’s here.”

“Then I’ll wait till they leave.” 

And another no is on the tip of Christen’s tongue, but she bites it back, rolls her eyes, and drags her feet back to where the rest of the team is, dropping her bag back onto the grass. 

It’s another 20 minutes before it’s just the two of them again. 

“Dude, what’s going on?” Kelley asks the instant Ali and Allison are out hearing proximity. “Was it something I did at the party?” 

Christen’s rising to her feet, and Kelley follows suite, eager to get an answer. 

“I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” Christen eyes her suspiciously, and Kelley’s throat goes dry. 

“I’m sorry….I’m sorry for being a dick. I’m sorry for going overboard, I’m sorry I dragged you into that mess the entire night.” 

“That’s not what I’m mad about,” Christen’s voice is strangely calm. Kelley almost wishes it wasn’t. Her brain wracks with remnants of broken memories. 

“Ok, um.” She scratches at her head, and Christen heaves out a sigh. “Shit, Chris, can you just tell me?” When Christen doesn’t budge, “Please? I hate it when I make you upset. I wanna fix it.” 

“You called me Press.” 

Kelley’s mouth goes agape. “I—I what?”

“You called me Press. The same way Coach does. The same way the upperclassmen do. You called me the name people call me when they’re ‘above’ me. When they’re superior.”

“That’s why you’ve been ignoring me?” 

“I didn’t like it, Kelley. I know it might sound stupid, but it bothered me,” Christen mumbles. Kelley’s demeanor softens. “The way you said it—telling me to chill out when I was looking out for you. It hurt.” 

“Oh, Chris,” Kelley says in an exhaled breath, “Chris, I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”

“I know you didn’t,” Christen says quietly. “It’s ok, I’m serious.” She grips her fingers around the strap of her bag and glances down at her watch. “I have to meet with a professor in, like, half an hour.”

Kelley presses her lips together. “Oh, ok. Can I call you afterwards?” 

“Um, yeah, sure,” Christen says offhandedly. “Actually, I think I’ll just call you. If that’s cool.”

Kelley nods quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, definitely cool. Whatever you want.” 

Christen offers her an attempt of a smile. “Ok. See you.” She pivots on her feet before Kelley has time to fit another word in. 

**iii.**

She stands outside Christen’s residence hall 3 days later with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her sweats. 

Or, she  _ was _ standing. Then she got tired. And bored. So she took a seat on a nearby bench. 

Christen appears above her in an unknown amount of time later, and it takes Kelley a full minute to realize she had dozed off. “Kell? What are you doing?” 

“I came to see you,” Kelley rubs the sleep out of her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Make everything better.” 

There’s a ghost of a smile on Christen’s lips before she takes Kelley upstairs.

Out of habit, Kelley plops down onto Christen’s bed, propping her back against the wall and letting Christen sling her legs across her lap. “Ok. I came here to say sorry.” She twiddles with a loose thread on Christen’s sweats. “I’m sorry for everything, alright? The night of the party, I was selfish. In all aspects. I was acting dumb, and you didn’t deserve that.

“I’m sorry I never thanked you. When you walked my drunk ass back to my dorm even though it was out of the way, I should have had the decency to thank you. I didn’t, and I’m sorry.” She pauses to take a breath because, “Still getting used to the whole vulnerability thing.” 

Christen smiles. “You’re doing great.” 

“I’m just—I’m really sorry. I’m sorry I was inconsiderate, I’m sorry I upset you. Ever since I met you, it’s been the one thing I’ve promised myself I wouldn’t do. And whenever I break that promise, I feel like shit. 

“And I’m sorry I called you Press. I was drunk, and I wasn’t thinking, but none of that matters.” Kelley softly squeezes Christen’s knee. “I would never think of myself as being superior to you or whatever, in a million years. I swear on it. I’m sorry I made you feel otherwise.” A lengthy pause. “So, yeah. I’m sorry,” she brings one of Christen’s hands to her lips and kisses it softly. “I’m sorry.” Kisses it again. “I’m sorry.” And again. 

Christen swings her legs around, curls into Kelley’s side, and presses their lips together. “My constant happy. Always.” 

Kelley laughs sweetly. “My constant happy,” she repeats. “Hey, um, I got this for you, hold on,” she contorts her body awkwardly around Christen’s to grab a knick knack out of her pocket. “Here.”

Christen takes it carefully into her hands, a grin finding her face when she realizes. 

A keychain. With her name. 

“With a  _ Ch, _ ” Kelley mumbles. “Not a  _ K. _ ” She swallows deeply. “I remember when we first talked—you told me you could never buy these at airports because they never spelled your name right. And I guess it made me sad you never got to have that, so yeah.” 

“Where did you even get this?” Christen asks eagerly, and Kelley shrugs. 

“There was this monogrammed store not too far off campus. I got it for free as long as I gave the shop owner tickets to a game. Do you like it?” 

“I love it,” Christen kisses her again. “And I love—” her voice catches. A clear of the throat. “I love that you went out of your way to get this for me.” 

Kelley musters up a tender smile. “Well, you’re worth it, Chris. You’ll always be worth it.”

Christen squeals as they fall back onto her bed together, a mess of giggles and kisses. 

And all Kelley can think about is how Ali was right that one night before she took Christen out to dinner. She’s happy. “ _ And not the kind of happy you are at parties, but like, the happy that people dream about feeling.” _

  
**iv.**  


 

“I think I’m gonna end things.” 

It’s a sharp 180, a timid mumble the following week when she and Ali are at a Coffee Bean studying for an exam. 

Ali tugs one of her earbuds out. “What? Did you say something?”

Kelley recites the word in an identical manner. “I think I’m gonna end things.”

“With….with Christen?” 

Kelley nods sullenly. 

“Whoa, whoa, why?” Ali comes to her senses and closes her laptop shut. “Didn’t you talk out the shit at the party with her? I thought you two were cool.”

“We are.” Kelley’s stare is blank, empty. 

“So...tell me what I’m missing here.” 

“When we got in a fight, we fucked up, and we brought our problems onto the soccer field,” Kelley digs her fingers into her hair. “What if it happens again before a championship or something, and we can’t fix it on time? What if  _ I  _ can’t fix it on time?

“Kell, you have to put trust in the two of you and believe that you will.” 

Kelley doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even open her mouth to try. 

Instead, she caps her pen closed, sets it on the table, and hides her face behind her hands. 

Then she starts to cry. And it’s not loud, wracking sobs. 

It’s silent, it’s shoulder-shaking, and it’s a lot more broken than that.

“Whoa, dude,” Ali leans over as far as she can to clasp her fingers around Kelley’s arms. “Kell, you’re ok.” 

Kelley sniffles loudly, her head shaking. “I don’t wanna do this. I don’t wanna do this, I don’t wanna lose her.”

“No one’s forcing you to—”

“I have to,” Kelley’s fingers are tear-soaked, and she looks like a fucking idiot at a Coffee Bean, but none of that comes even close to mattering because, “Fuck, I’m scared. I’m so scared. I’m scared because I don’t wanna lose her now but what happens if I lose her later on, and the team goes down with us?” 

Ali hurriedly digs a pack of tissues out of her bag and wordlessly slides it across the table. 

Kelley can’t bring herself to so much as flinch to retrieve it. “Fuck me.” She breathes deeply. “I’m in love with her, dude.” 

“Yeah?”

“I’m all in,” she sniffles again. “It’s why I have to stop it all. I have to stop it all before I can hurt her again, and I won’t be able to make it better.” 

“Kelley, listen to me,” Ali says evenly, and Kelley halts the bouncing of her knee as if it’ll do anything to calm her down. “Breaking up with her doesn’t mean you’re losing her. You have to remember that.” 

“I know, I know,” Kelley lies, too embarrassed to remove her hands from her face. “It’s just that she’s everything, you know? How do you tell your everything that they’re not worth fighting for?” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t think there’s really an answer.”

Kelley shifts her hands to the sides of her face, shielding herself from the rest of the coffee shop. “She won’t hate me, right? She wouldn’t do that?” 

Ali sports a sad smile. “You know her better than anyone else, Kell. You know the answer. But if I’m right about you two….if I’m right about you too, then I know you’ll be ok.”

Kelley repeats the words in her head to keep herself from falling apart. 

_ You’ll be ok.  _

_ You’ll be ok.  _

_ You’ll be ok. _

 

**v.**  
  


It ends in the same place it starts. 

The two of them, the soccer field, and the bag of soccer balls they promised to bring into the athletic house. 

Christen’s organizing her bag in the same way that amazed Kelley the first time they sat here together, and Kelley has to tear her eyes away before doing something stupid like cry. Because she can’t. She can’t show that any of this hurts her because she has to be strong. For the both of them.

“Hey, Chris,” she says casually, almost  _ too  _ casually, and Christen’s head shoots up. 

“Mm?” 

“Um, this is gonna sound really out of left field but,” Kelley ignores the way her chest feels like it’s hollowing out, “But I think we should, like, um. I think we should break up.”

For nearly a split second, Christen’s face morphs into one of pure brokenness. Kelley would’ve missed it completely had she blinked. “Huh?”

“It’s just for professional purposes, so to speak,” Kelley shrugs, her voice even. “I just think what happens between us off the field has the potential to screw up stuff on the field. You know?” 

The way Christen says, “Yeah, of course,” so quickly hits Kelley in the gut. 

“And I’m not—I’m not saying that I’m giving up on you. Or us.” She wonders if she sounds as empty and stupid as she feels. “But I think we should put a pause on what we have now, and maybe come back to it when the timing’s right. If fate, or God, or whatever is on our side, then—then we’ll find our way back to each other. We will.” She seals her mouth closed before Christen can catch onto the crack in her voice. 

“Um,” Christen doesn’t look at her. “Yeah. I agree,” she murmurs. “Hundred percent.” 

Kelley twirls the laces of one of her cleats around her pointer finger until it turns purple. “Ok, yeah. Cool.” She rests her chin on her knees. “So. That’s it, then.” 

“Uh-huh,” Christen’s hands shake as she zippers up her bag and rises to the ground. “I actually—I forgot I have to be somewhere, but I’ll see you. Around.” 

She’s lying. It’s Thursday, and Thursdays are the days Kelley and Christen  _ always  _ clear their schedules to grab dinner together after practice. It takes all the energy in Kelley’s body to curl the corners of her lips upwards. “Ok.” 

There’s a force inside of her urging her to do something. To call Christen back, apologize for being stupid, sink into the kiss that follows afterwards, and remind Christen she’s her constant happy. 

She settles for a shaky breath instead. 

_ “If fate, or God, or whatever is on our side, then we’ll find our way back to each other.” _

Kelley’s wrong about a lot of things. Her life could be called an organized mess because of it.

But this one….this one she hopes she’s finally right about. 

**Wild Card**

_ (If step three proves to be a difficult one, falsely convince the other person, as well as yourself, that you’ve truly, truly completed it, even if you still find yourself stuck in step two. _

  
_ Do it successfully, and the game is yours.) _


End file.
